


trick

by nicole_writes, the human eyes emoji (nicole_writes)



Series: Sylvgrid Halloween [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (kind of), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Minor Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Rated M for Sylvain's Sense of Humour, Secret Relationship, Sylvain Jose Gautier Being An Idiot, Sylvgrid Halloween, Wingman Dorothea Arnault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27248518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/pseuds/nicole_writes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/pseuds/the%20human%20eyes%20emoji
Summary: Claude hosts a Halloween party. Dorothea and Hilda see an opportunity.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Sylvgrid Halloween [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989526
Comments: 13
Kudos: 33





	trick

**Author's Note:**

> happy sylvgrid halloween... I was going to wait until Saturday, but I've got a busy weekend (and a long fic to update Sunday) so take this today instead. We're rated M here for Sylvain's sense of humour and only for Sylvain's sense of humour...
> 
> thanks to sunni and trixie for some of the Key Lines in this piece ;)

**trick**

* * *

“What do you mean I don’t get to know what you’re dressing up as?” Sylvain complains. 

Ingrid rolls her eyes and puts her hand on her hip. “Because that ruins the surprise and all of Dorothea, Annette and Hilda’s hard work.”

Sylvain leans forward, cupping his chin in his hands. “But, how else am I supposed to match you?”

Ingrid sighs and shakes her head. She turns away, picking up her purse. She hears the chair slide out behind her and then Sylvain is darting in front of her, holding up his hands. 

“Come on, Ing! How else do I know which of my stupid, sexy costumes to wear?”

“Sylvain, the whole idea is that our friends don’t actually know we’re dating yet,” she says. “If you show up in a matching Halloween costume, then we have two problems. Number one, Hilda will know I told you and I’ll die by her hand. Number two, everyone will immediately know we’re dating. That doesn’t even cover the fact that I won’t know the costumes until I get to Hilda’s.”

Sylvain groans and grabs her by the hips before she can slip around him. “Oh come on, our relationship is like the worst-kept secret in this friend group!”

She grabs his hands and detaches them from her hips, levelling him with a steady look. “Maybe for you.” Sylvain pouts and she shakes her head. “I have told Dorothea and that’s it. You, on the other hand, managed to tell Felix, Hilda, _and_ Dedue.”

“Ok but if I didn’t tell Felix, you would have, so that one isn’t fair.”

Ingrid leans closer to him and pecks him lightly on the lips. “You told Hilda, babe.”

“You told Dorothea!”

“Because Dorothea was the only reason I actually said yes when you asked me out,” she counters. “You telling Hilda was literally a byproduct of not being able to keep your mouth shut.”

“Because I love you!”

“Mmm,” she hums. “Right. Well, because you love me, you have to let me leave so that I can go get ready with the girls and I’ll see you later.”

She pushes him aside and he tips into the counter, faking offence. Ingrid rolls her eyes, but she can’t get rid of the smile that curls up on her face. She slides on her sneakers and grabs her keys from the bench by the front door of his apartment. She waves goodbye at her boyfriend and makes her way down to the lobby of his apartment building. 

Dorothea is waiting in her car out front and Ingrid hops into the front seat. Dorothea looks her up and down and laughs. 

“Wow, you guys really are terrible at this whole secret relationship thing.”

Ingrid frowns. “What?” She touches her still-damp hair. “I just took a shower at his place.”

“You showered at a male friend’s house,” Dorothea repeats and Ingrid realizes that it does sound kind of bad when she says it that way. “Plus, you know, there’s the fact that I’m picking you up from his place anyway.”

Ingrid sighs. “Yeah, well, what if I had just been dropping something off at his and I knew your place was closer to his than mine.”

Dorothea laughs and starts her car, pulling out into traffic. “Alright, I’ll give you that, but have fun explaining the hickey he left on your neck last night.” 

Ingrid’s hand slaps to the left side of her neck reflexively. The skin there isn’t tender at all and she is sure that would have been the place he had left a mark, but it doesn’t feel like there is anything there from the night before. 

Dorothea gasps. “Oh, wow! You showered just now because you guys literally _just_ fucked, didn’t you?”

Ingrid sinks in her seat as she realizes her mistake. Sylvain may have stuck to the left side of her neck last night, but an hour ago, in the shower, he definitely had not. She touches her throat on the right side and finds the sensitive patch of skin that definitely marks where Sylvain had muffled his grunts.

She flushes and rubs at it with the collar of her shirt like that would do something. “His neighbour is a dick,” she mutters. 

Dorothea bursts out laughing so hard that she bumps the horn on her wheel. The driver in front of them glares at them in the rearview mirror and Ingrid sinks lower in her seat. 

“Did he file a noise complaint or something?”

Ingrid huffs and looks out the window, pointedly looking away from her friend. 

Dorothea, sensing genuine frustration, drops the subject and reaches forward and across Ingrid, tapping the glovebox. “We’re not exactly the same shade, but I have some concealer in there if you want to hide that from Hilda and the others.”

“Hilda already knows.”

“Do you need Annette asking you a million questions about a hickey when we’re getting dressed for a Halloween party?”

Ingrid sighs and opens the glovebox, digging out Dorothea’s concealer. She pulls down the visor and checks how bad the mark is. It isn’t nearly as bad as she had thought it might be, but it is definitely visible. She dabs concealer over it and blends until it is mostly hidden and then drops the make-up back into the glovebox. 

“Did Hilda tell you anything about the costumes?”

“Oh, yes, I helped her and Annette with a bunch of the last-minute details, actually,” Dorothea says smugly as she changes lanes and then turns off onto a side street. 

Ingrid frowns. “Why do you get to know?”

“Because,” Dorothea says, teasing, “I’m not the one who runs away every time someone tries to put me in a dress.”

Ingrid huffs. “Tell me it’s not a slip dress.”

“Alright,” Dorothea agrees. “It’s not a slip dress.”

* * *

“No,” Ingrid says, shaking her head fiercely. “Absolutely not.” She rounds on Dorothea who is sitting on Hilda’s bed, grinning. 

“Oh come on, Ing. It’s perfect. You know it is.”

Ingrid picks up the thing that is supposed to pass for bottoms. She waves it at Dorothea. “No!” she exclaims again. 

Dorothea catches the pants as Ingrid flails them around. “Hilda adapted these from a costume I had. They’re tailored to fit you, and you will rock them.”

Ingrid crosses her arms. “They’re leather pants, Dorothea! I’m not wearing leather pants.”

“Why not?” 

Ingrid gapes at her. “Because they’re leather pants!”

“And you’re going to knock your boyfriend flat on his ass. It’ll be excellent.”

Ingrid buries her face in her hands. “Why do I have to be Sandy?”

“Because you’ve got the hair _and_ the figure for it.” 

“Why can’t you do it?” Ingrid complains. 

“Because I’m Charlene.”

“Hilda?”

“Frenchy.”

“Mercedes?” 

“Marty.”

“Annette?”

“Patty Simcox.”

“Marianne?”

“Oh, honey.”

Ingrid groans. “Come on Dorothea, isn’t there literally anyone else?”

Dorothea shakes her head. “We cast the entire female cast of Grease and you’re our Sandy. We’re not going back on that.” She leans forward, grinning. “Just try it on, okay?”

Ingrid sighs. “Fine.” 

Ingrid waves Dorothea out of the room. Dorothea winks, tucking her hands into the pockets of her pastel yellow pants. Dorothea closes the door behind her and Ingrid stares down the costume laid out in front of her, scowling. 

It is Hilda’s fault, she says to herself as she pulls on the skin-tight bodysuit that doubles as her top. She wriggles into the pants and smooths out the wrinkles in the bodysuit. Ingrid steps in front of Hilda’s mirror and frowns at her appearance. The outfit is perfectly tailored to show off too much boob and every one of her curves. 

“Knock knock!” Hilda sings as she lets herself into the room. 

Ingrid jumps and reflexively yanks up the neckline of the bodysuit. Hilda squeals in excitement. 

“Oh, it’s perfect!” Hilda darts across the room to her, grinning. Hilda is a good bit shorter than Ingrid, but she buzzes around, tugging on the bodysuit and adjusting her pants until she is satisfied. 

Hilda spins Ingrid around back to the mirror and Ingrid huffs. “Hilda is this all really necessary?”

Hilda winks. “Absolutely. If you and Sylvain are going to insist on being stupid about your relationship, then I’m taking every opportunity to kill him where he stands.”

Hilda is wearing a jacket as pink as her hair over a very cropped top and skintight pants and her hair is curled and bouncing short around her face, in a clear effort to imitate Frenchy’s hair post-pink dye. 

“Now that you’re dressed, go see Mercedes and Annette and they’ll do your makeup.”

Ingrid sighs, but she snags her clothes off Hilda’s bed and emerges into the middle of Hilda and Marianne’s apartment, right into the middle of all of the chaos. Sure enough, the others are all wearing costumes as characters from Grease. Annette squeals as soon as she sees Ingrid. 

“Oh, Dorothea, it’s perfect!”

“It really is!” Dorothea agrees, grinning slyly at Ingrid.

Ingrid makes a face and walks over to Mercedes who is wearing a longer skirt and pink jacket for her Marty costume. “Mercedes, can you help me with my makeup?”

Mercedes beams. “Of course I can.” She waves to the kitchen chair next to Leonie.

Ingrid steals a glance at Leonie as she sits down. Leonie’s jumpsuit is stylish and a perfect look for the spunky, sassy Rizzo. Leonie grins at her. 

“You look good, Ingrid.”

Ingrid sighs for the thousandth time as Mercedes picks up the foundation brush and leans over her. She closes her eyes and lets her friends get to work. 

* * *

“Aren’t we late?” Ingrid asks as they walk up the steps to the house. 

Dorothea laughs. “Please, Ingrid, just because the invitation says 9, doesn’t mean anyone will be there until at least 10:30.”

She checks her phone. “It’s 10.”

“And that’s because we need front row seats when Sylvain arrives.”

Ingrid elbows Dorothea harshly, looking around. Thankfully Annette is engrossed with something that Hilda is doing and Mercedes is talking with Leonie and Marianne. She huffs and just pushes Dorothea forward towards the door. 

“Don’t even start,” Ingrid mutters as she pushes Dorothea up the steps and into the house. 

Ingrid catches her heel on the stoop of the door and pitches forward unceremoniously, but thankfully Claude lunges forward, catching her before she can faceplant into his entranceway. He effortlessly sets her on her feet and then almost immediately does a double-take and whistles. 

Ingrid flushes and shoves Claude away. “Thanks for the save.”

“You’re welcome, Sandy,” he replies teasingly. 

Ingrid rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “Not my idea.”

He shrugs. “Own it if you got it, Ing.”

Claude looks past her to where the rest of the girls are arriving and grins. “Oh man we have all the Pink Ladies and the entire cast of Grease, don’t we?”

Hilda blows Claude a kiss as she shoves into his house. “Hello dipshit, it’s cold outside, let us in.”

Claude bows mockingly and waves Hilda forward into the next room. Hilda winks at the rest of them and immediately disappears into the living room, calling out something about music. Annette and Mercedes and Leonie and Marianne all greet Claude and move into the living room, but Ingrid hovers by the door, looking down at the fiery, towering red heels Dorothea had forced her into. 

Dorothea puts a hand on her hip and sizes up Claude. “She can keep the shoes, right?”

Claude shrugs. “We’re going to do a full clean tomorrow. Knock yourself out.”

“Excellent!” Dorothea says, ushering Ingrid into the next room where Hilda seems to have succeeded in getting someone to start playing music. 

Ingrid is almost immediately handed a drink by Leonie who just pats her on the shoulder and breezes by to talk to Lorenz who seems to be entirely flustered by her costume as Leonie grins at the normally uptight man. Ingrid chugs half her drink and shudders at the taste. 

“God it’s like we’re college students again,” she mutters. 

Annette laughs and taps the bottom of her cup. “It’s a Halloween party, Ingrid, and some of us are still students.”

Ingrid sighs. “It’s like we’re undergrads again,” she corrects since she herself is two terms into a very expensive, very difficult law degree.

Annette grins and sips from her own cup, her eyes darting around the crowd. “So, I didn’t ask earlier, but who’s the Sandy look for? Dorothea and Hilda were so excited about it.”

Ingrid frowns. “No one. I’m just the only blonde who works since Mercie claimed Marty.”

Annette shrugs, the implication sailing over her head. “Oh, I see Lysithea, I’m going to go say hello.” The redhead disappears and Ingrid turns to her left, finding Dorothea hovering again. 

“For no one, huh?”

“I will step on you with these fucking heels, so help me, Dorothea.”

“He’s not here yet, it’s excusable.”

* * *

Sylvain arrives at 10:30 with Felix and Dimitri. He is wearing a sharp button-up shirt and tailored dress slacks with pointed dress shoes. It is quite sexy, but it is definitely not a Halloween costume. The thing that tips her off that something is weird is the fact that he is wearing his glasses, something he hardly ever does outside his apartment, even if Ingrid thinks they make him look quite dashing. 

Felix is wearing all black and Dimitri is wearing almost all white and Ingrid smiles to herself as she pushes her way through the crowd to her three friends. Claude’s house is almost completely packed at this point and she squeezes between Yuri and his roommate Constance to reach her friends, popping back up directly behind Dimitri and Felix. 

“Hi!” she greets. She is two drinks in at this point and has already completely forgotten what she is wearing until all three of her male friends stare at her in disbelief. 

“Are you wearing leather pants?” Felix blurts, staring.

Ingrid immediately recoils, covering her face and squeaking. “Maybe?”

Dimitri snaps. “Wait, I know this one. Grease, right?”

Sylvain laughs. “Wow, Dimitri got a pop culture reference. Someone get the guy a prize.” His eyes dart up and down Ingrid appreciatively and she bites her lip to hide a smile. Just because she had been opposed to the costume originally doesn’t mean that she can’t appreciate the reaction it can drag out of her boyfriend. 

“What are you guys supposed to be?” she asks, looking between the three of them. “Dimitri, you could almost fit in with our Grease thing as the Teen Angel.”

Dimitri laughs. “No, Felix and I are salt and pepper.”

Ingrid gapes, looking between them. “You’re kidding, right?”

Felix scowls. “I hate Halloween.”

Sylvain puts his hands behind his head and shrugs. “I tried to talk them out of it, but Dimitri was insistent on the couple’s costume.”

Dimitri smiles at Felix warmly and Felix narrows his eyes, but his scowl lessens. It is a bit weird for Ingrid to see her friends together, but she imagines that it is much the same for Felix with her and Sylvain, so she can’t really say anything. She puts a hand on her hip and looks at Sylvain. 

“And you? What are you supposed to be?”

Sylvain claps his hand over his heart like he is offended. “You don’t recognize me? I’m Clark Kent!”

She sighs immediately. “Of course you are.”

“Oh! I see Edelgard. Come on, Felix, we should go talk to her,” Dimitri says excitedly. He grabs his boyfriend’s hand and Felix throws a ‘help me’ look over his shoulder as Dimitri drags him away into the crowd. 

Ingrid watches them go, amused, but manages to turn back to Sylvain before he can grab her hips. She glares at him. 

“No way, Superman, not here.”

He sighs. “But, Ingrid, does it really matter?”

She points a finger in his face. “We promised we weren’t telling people until mid-November at least. Dimitri and Felix’s thing is still kind of new too, we don’t need more of this shit piling up.”

Sylvain scoffs. “Please, we’ve been sleeping together for like six months and you’re trying to call our thing as new as theirs.”

Ingrid slaps a hand over his mouth. “Shush, Sylvain!” 

His eyes crinkle as he grins and she drops her hand. “You’re ridiculous. And you promised me that there would be no comments about any of this tonight.”

“I dunno, I think we need to find your Danny Zuko, babe. Whoever you have wrapped around your finger must be a lucky guy.”

Ingrid spins on her toe and almost trips in her heels, but she manages to recover and push away into the crowd. Unfortunately for her, Sylvain pursues her easily as she enters the kitchen and is immediately spotted by Mercedes and Ashe who are chatting by the punch bowl with Dedue, Linhardt, and Petra. 

“Hi Ingrid, hi Sylvain!” Ashe greets, waving. 

Ingrid strides over to them, smiling. “Hi Ashe.” She nods to the rest of the group. 

Ashe is wearing a surprisingly good Spider-Man costume and Ingrid grins up seeing it. She turns to Sylvain and then points at the symbol on Ashe’s chest. 

“That’s a good superhero costume. Not this lazy nonsense.”

Sylvain gasps. “Maybe I should take my shirt off and you’ll change your mind.”

Ingrid freezes, her eyes widening. _What is he talking about_? Just as quickly as her brain short-circuits, it restarts and she remembers that he is Clark Kent, meaning he likely has the Superman symbol on _under_ his shirt. She sends him a discrete glare for that comment, but he just winks. 

“Wow, Sylvain,” Linhardt drawls, “it’s rather like you just walked out of a business meeting.”

Ashe shrugs. “If you’d added a camera, I would have bought the whole reporter part of your cover better.”

Sylvain laughs. “Yeah, well, it was a bit of a last-minute thing. I had planned on trying to do a partner costume with someone, but I got brushed off.”

Ingrid bites the inside of her cheek to keep from frowning. 

Mercedes just nods. “Oh, yes, I imagine Felix and Dimitri’s couple’s costumes cut into whatever you had planned, right?”

Sylvain just grins, his eyes straying to Ingrid. “Absolutely it did.”

Ingrid takes a sip of her drink to hide her annoyance and when she looks back up, Dedue is watching her, an amused expression on his face and Ingrid drains the rest of her drink quickly after that. She had almost forgotten that Sylvain had blurted out their relationship status to Dedue at the last party they had gone to together. 

“Ingrid,” Sylvain says. “Wanna go carve a pumpkin?” His voice drops into a lower, incredibly annoyingly sexy timbre when he says it and her breath hitches as she snaps her head towards him, ready to smack him. 

Sylvain is grinning at her cockily and she realizes that he is actually genuinely talking about going to carve a pumpkin at the station on the other side of the kitchen. Ingrid wants to curl up and die, but she forces a smile and shoves Sylvain’s arm, ushering him away from their friends. 

“Sounds _great_ , but I’m hungry,” she says, sarcasm dripping off the sentence as she hauls him away. 

She forces Sylvain into the hallway outside of the kitchen and looks around quickly. No one is around or paying them any attention, so she shoves him against the wall and glares. 

“Sylvain, _what are you doing_?”

“Trying to turn you on,” he admits shamelessly. “Is it working?”

She smacks his shoulder. “Stop it.”

He grins, his eyes darting down over her, combing over her costume again. “Come on, Ing. You’re dressed like that and I can’t do anything about it, so I’m just trying to have some fun.” 

She huffs out a breath and smacks him again. “Sylvain, we are at a very open party with all of our friends, the majority of whom do not know we’re dating.”

He hums and leans forward, stealing a quick glance to make sure no one is looking at him. He pecks her quickly and then pulls away, smirking. “And,” he teases, “since I had zero warning about all of this,” he waves his hands in an hourglass shape in front of Ingrid, “I get to have my fun in return.”

She glares at him, but Sylvain just drapes an arm over her shoulders and guides her out of the hallway into the dining room where there is a candy apple making station. As annoyed as she is at her boyfriend, she does love candy apples. 

“Hey Ingrid!” Raphael greets, waving vigorously. 

Ingrid laughs and approaches the table, looking down at the display of apples before her. “Did you make these?” she asks Raphael. 

He grins and nods. “Yeah! This was Ignatz and my contribution to the party. Lorenz brought the pumpkins, Claude did everything else, and Ignatz had the idea that we could do something like this.” Raphael holds out a napkin. “You want one?”

Ingrid smiles back. “Absolutely.” 

Raphael reaches down and picks up one in wax paper, handing it over to her. He looks at Sylvain. “Do you want one too, Sylvain?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good.” 

He leans over Ingrid’s shoulder and swipes his finger along the surface of her apple, stealing a line of caramel on his finger. She frowns, but can’t stop him as he lifts his finger to his mouth, sucking the caramel off of his finger slowly. Ingrid inhales sharply, but she can’t look away as Sylvain smirks at her. 

“Thanks for the apple, Raph,” Ingrid says, her own voice sounding distant to her ears.

“The consistency is a bit sticky, but the taste makes it worth it,” Sylvain chimes in and Ingrid actually steps back, driving the spike of her heel into his foot for that one. 

He winces but keeps his grin steady. Ingrid rolls her eyes and pushes him away from Raphael. He is content to let her herd him away from everyone else, getting pushed to the other end of the dining room. The divider between the dining room and the hallway that loops back to the living room is a mobile of plastic bones. 

Sylvain reaches out to part the curtain for her and she can practically see the gears churning in his head as he tries to think of something clever. Ingrid brushes past him, trying to move on before he can come up with something, but apparently, Sylvain is in rare top form tonight. 

“Watch out for the bones, Ingrid,” he teases. His hand brushes along her hip. “This one might stick you.”

She stops dead in her tracks, glaring at him so hard that she is sure he should have turned to stone. He winks and steps through the curtain with her. 

“Just looking out for you. The bones are kind of long and pretty hard.”

“You,” she growls, “are _unbelievable_!” 

She storms away from her boyfriend, managing to slip into the crowd of dancing bodies and collide with Dorothea. Dorothea grabs Ingrid by the arms and grins at her, glancing over her shoulder at where she had left Sylvain on the edge of the dance floor.

“Hi, darling,” Dorothea teases. 

Ingrid huffs. “I hate him.”

“Riled up?”

“Shut up.”

“Honey, you’re the one wearing leather pants. Shake your ass like once and he’ll pop a boner right now,” Dorothea points out. 

Ingrid glances back and sees that Sylvain is watching her, a sly grin on his face and she turns back to Dorothea. “How do we do this?”

Dorothea’s grin turns wicked. “One second.” She grabs Ingrid’s wrist and drags her towards the music stand where Claude and Hilda are bickering about something. 

Hilda sees them coming and abruptly stops arguing with Claude to face them. “Song request?” Her gaze darts behind them and Ingrid knows she is looking for Sylvain and she frowns. 

“Absolutely,” Dorothea agrees. “Tie Me Down by Gryffin.”

Hilda brightens. “Oh fuck yeah.” She turns to Caspar who is playing DJ for the night. “You heard her. Queue it next.” She winks at Caspar and he grins, nodding as he adds the song to the queue. 

“Excellent,” Dorothea says, pulling Ingrid back onto the dance floor. “Ok, babe, tell me where Sylvain is.”

Ingrid cranes her neck and sees him leaning against the wall, chatting with Leonie and Dimitri. She nods in his direction and Dorothea grins, putting a hand on Ingrid’s hip. She pushes Ingrid in front of her, turning so that she is facing Sylvain and Dorothea is crowded against Ingrid’s back. 

Ingrid blushes at the contact, but Dorothea is shameless as the music for the song that she had queued starts pumping through the speakers. Dorothea’s hands guide Ingrid’s hips into a slow, shifting, rotating motion and Ingrid laughs, leaning back into her friend as they dance. She lifts her hands up, twisting her arms and letting her eyes close. 

Dorothea giggles in her ear as they continue to dance. Ingrid keeps her eyes closed and rocks into Dorothea as they dance to the song. Dorothea hums along to the song for about thirty seconds before she grabs Ingrid’s hand and spins her out. Ingrid laughs, stumbling on her heels, but manages to steady herself. When Dorothea reels her back in, Ingrid is facing her and she puts her hands out, but Dorothea just smirks and grabs her hands before pushing her backwards. 

Ingrid’s eyes widen as she stumbles back, but then hands are catching her waist and holding her up as a warm, familiar body is pressing in behind her. Sylvain’s body presses against her, solid and sturdy, and Ingrid’s eyes blow wide with shock and betrayal as Dorothea winks and spins off into the crowd. 

“That was hot,” Sylvain murmurs in her ear. The low tone of his voice makes her shiver as she slowly sways to the music, pressing back against him. 

“You’re so fucking unsubtle,” she grumbles, but she doesn’t push him off. 

“Mm,” he hums. “Give me a couple of hours and you’ll drop the ‘so’ and the ‘unsubtle’.”

That comment is enough to make her legs tense and her heart skips a beat so Ingrid jerks out of his touch, booking it for the kitchen and the door that leads into the backyard, in desperate need of a breath of fresh air. She hears Sylvain following her, but her skin is crawling with something hot and itchy.

She steps out onto the porch and is immediately taken by the sight of two barrels, filled with water, and Felix going head-to-head with Cyril in the apple bobbing. Sylvain stands on the porch next to her, tilting his head with a grin as they watch Felix pull his last apple and the crowd around them cheer. 

“Come on,” Sylvain urges, tapping her hip. “Let’s go.”

Ingrid touches her hair instinctively. “No way.”

He rolls his eyes. “Then watch me go. I can’t let Felix keep all the glory, can I?”

Ingrid relents. “Alright, fine.”

She wobbles down the stairs on her heels and they stride across the grass to where Lysithea and Annette are refilling the barrels with apples. Annette smiles at Ingrid as she approaches Sylvain. 

“Hi guys! Want to try bobbing for apples?”

Sylvain grins. “I’m pretty sure Dorothea and Hilda would flay Ingrid if she messed up her hair, but I’ll give it a go.” He looks at Felix who had just untied the scarf from around his wrists. “You and me, Fe?”

Felix snickers. “Fine. I’ll gladly kick your ass.” He turns around, tucking his hands behind his back. “Annette,” he requests and the redhead leans over, looping the scarf to hold his hands back. 

Lysithea holds out the scarf to Sylvain and he takes it, turning to Ingrid. “Tie me up, Ing?”

She sucks in a sharp breath and snatches the scarf. “Turn around,” she orders sharply, ignoring the tight feeling in her stomach. 

Sylvain winks and spins, holding his hands back. Ingrid loops the scarf around his wrists and sighs as she knots it. Before she can lean away, Sylvain tilts his head so that his breath tickles her ear. 

“Wrong setting for this, if you ask me.”

Ingrid almost shoves him into the barrel herself as she steps back, narrowing her eyes at him. He wiggles his eyebrows and steps closer to the barrel, but then he pauses, looking at her again. 

“Can you hold my glasses, Ing? Don’t need to drop them in the water.”

That is actually a fair request, so she steps forward, plucking them off his face. He smiles at her. 

“Thanks.”

“Can you see without them?” Annette asks curiously. 

Sylvain laughs. “Yeah, well enough. They’re for distance. Besides, I do pretty well with touch sensing anyway.”

Ingrid actually has to turn away from that comment to hide the burning in her face. She is surprised that she doesn’t snap Sylvain’s glasses when her hand clenches unintentionally. She doesn’t watch the competition between Sylvain and Felix, but by the way that Felix scoffs a minute later, she figures that Sylvain has lost. When she turns back to look at them, Sylvain’s hair is dripping and sticking to his face, not unlike how it had been in the shower earlier that day. 

Ingrid wants to smack herself. Now even her own brain is joining Sylvain on the teasing and riling-her-up train. She checks her phone. It is 12:30. It is a reasonable time to leave the party and she is starting to get to the point of not caring. 

She steps up to Sylvain and quickly jerks off the scarf on his wrists, passing it over to Lysithea. She leans up, perching his glasses on the edge of his nose and he raises an eyebrow at her. She pushes back some of his damp hair, her stomach flipping at their closeness. 

“Hi,” he breathes. His eyes dart to Felix, Annette, and Lysithea who are all watching them. 

Ingrid steps back and grabs Sylvain’s wrist. “We’re needed inside,” she excuses and drags him back towards the house. 

“We are?”

“I need to get my jacket,” Ingrid says. “And you’re going to shut your mouth and call us a cab and keep your hands to yourself until we get back to your place.”

**Author's Note:**

> ....nsfw part two is up on my nsfw pseud and in the series here ;)


End file.
